


Making Tea is Never a Simple Affair

by Zilentdreamer



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Gen, Humor, Mischief, desecration of tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-02
Updated: 2010-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-02 06:00:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/365714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zilentdreamer/pseuds/Zilentdreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bard attempts to be helpful with typical results, as usual, and Sebastian takes advantage of the situation, as usual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Tea is Never a Simple Affair

It was the early hours of the morning that Sebastian enjoyed the most. The mansion was a silent presence, the heavy stillness of sleep eddying around the loyal butler as he ghosted down shadowy halls. He enjoyed the silence. The humans he served with were bumbling creatures that served their purpose, but silence was not one of them.

There were moments when he considered their usefulness in the greater scheme of things. More often than not they proved to be more problematic than helpful. Much to his surprise his young Master insisted that idiots they might be, but in the end they were usually useful idiots. Their contribution to the household outweighed the sheer havoc they seemed capable of inspiring without effort. Sebastian couldn’t help but agree.

Sebastian paused on the stairs, seeking the large portrait that loomed above the landing. Master Ciel’s visage stared down at him, his young face set into a perpetual glare. A slow smile curled along the corner of Sebastian’s mouth. Even in one so young, only his master seemed to possess the ability to keep his thoughts behind his wary blue gaze, if not his displeasure. Master Ciel understood the value of silence, used it as a weapon where foolish men used words.

The young Master was a special creature, Sebastian mused. Crimson eyes glowed with feral satisfaction as the demon stared up at his contractor, his prize. It took something special to offer one’s soul in contract with a demon. It took an immeasurable amount of drive and burning hatred that Sebastian could almost taste. 

Yes, his Master was something else. The youth did not belong with the dregs of humanity. A being that burned with such purpose was wasted inside the flesh and blood prison of his mortal body. It was a pity, really.

A gloved hand reached into a slim pocket and pulled out a gleaming pocket watch. With a near inaudible click the lid flipped open to reveal the ornate clock face underneath. Sebastian sighed and tucked the watch away. It was time to make his young Master’s tea. Turning on his heel, Sebastian made his way down to the kitchen. 

Pushing past the door he nodded to Bard, who nodded back, his arms elbow deep in the sink and covered in suds. Bard was the most tolerable of the staff, even if he was some what overzealous in his attempts at the baking process. It was not until he met Bard that Sebastian ever thought explosives could be used in cooking. Judging from the amount of edible food that managed to leave the kitchen, the process still needed refining. 

Sebastian came to a halt when he saw the tea tray already set out, a plate of pastries and a steaming pot perched on the trolley. A quick inspection proved that the delicate pastries were not burned or singed in anyway. The butler turned, one slim eyebrow arched in question.

“I thought I could try and help out this morning.” A flush darkened Bard’s cheeks and he kept his gaze fixed on the dishes he was washing. “Making tea took time, so I had to be patient.”

Sebastian eyed the teapot with new interest. “Is that so?” He hadn’t thought Bard’s particular methods could be applied to tea. 

He approached the teapot warily and lifted the lid to peer inside. His eyes widened at what he saw before he folded his growing smile away and slowly replaced the lid. 

“Bard, exactly what kind of tea were you attempting to make?” From what he saw in the pot, he used the word ‘attempt’ lightly.

Bard looked up, his bashful nature vanishing as he sensed the unspoken criticism lurking beneath the butler’s question. “It’s rose tea.” At some time or another he had acquired a tooth pick, which he held clamped between his teeth. He shifted it now so that it jutted upwards. “I heard some ladies talking about it.”

“I see. I was not aware that we had the means to make rose tea.”

Bard shrugged. “Yeah, I know. I ended up boiling water and rosebuds together. I figured it was the same thing with other teas since you place the tea bags in hot water too.”

Sebastian pressed an elegantly gloved hand against his temple. “Rosebuds and boiled water.” His voice contained no inflection, retaining its pristine and cultured refinement that all proper butlers possessed. As was his job, his mind was already smoothing together a plan that would help to deal with Bard’s….helpfulness. 

Really, he just didn’t understand mortals. Sebastian was beginning to suspect that one of his ilk never would. He stared at the innocent tea pot, his thoughts ticking away. What lay inside was an abomination to any true tea aficionado’s delicate sensibilities. From the amount of drowned rosebuds he had glimpsed inside, he suspected that if he were to take a walk through the gardens at this moment he would see an alarming amount of naked rose bushes. 

Sebastian was debating how fast he could create a new pot of tea that was more in line of what his master preferred, when a smile curled the corner of his lips up into the barest remnants of a smirk. It was all he would allow him self in the presence of one who was not his young Master. Sebastian didn’t notice the sharp clang as Bard dropped a soapy pot, clearly unnerved by the butler’s subtle display of amusement. 

The young master had seemed a little sour of mood lately. It would do him good to have something sweet. 

“Thank you, Bard. I’m sure the young Master will be delighted by your selection.” Gripping the handle Sebastian wheeled the cart out of the room, leaving a gaping cook staring after him. The door had barely swung closed when Sebastian popped his head back into the kitchen. “By the way, Bard. I would much prefer it if you refrained from any more attempts at assisting me. Your own duties are much too time consuming to be troubling your self with chores that are beyond your means.” 

Then the butler vanished for good, leaving an irate cook who immediately turned to his trusty flame thrower for comfort. He was going to cook the best meal ever and he would show that fancy bastard just who he was dealing with. 

Now where had he left the dynamite?

* * *

Ciel opened his eyes to the dull rattle of the curtains being thrown open. Scowling at the bright sunlight that fell across his face, he turned away, burying his face in the warm pillow. 

“It is time to get up, young Master.” Sebastian methodically pulled open all the curtains, carefully fastening them so as not to allow them to slip back into place and douse the ornate room in shadow. 

The young lord growled and shoved away from his pillow to glare at the butler through tousled bangs. Seeing that the butler’s back was turned he reached for the darts lying on his bedside table. A flick of his wrist sent the dart soaring with a soundless whoosh of air, only to be caught midflight between Sebastian’s fore and middle fingers. Without bothering to turn around the butler deposited the dart on the nearest surface and continued with opening the curtains without so much as pausing.

Seeing that his attempt to take the ever watchful butler by surprise had failed spectacularly, Ciel sniffed. He then turned his glower on the early morning sunlight that spilled across the plush carpet and silk sheets of the massive bed. 

Only once all the curtains had been pulled back and properly fastened did Sebastian deign to turn around and greet Ciel. “Good morning, young Master. I hope you slept well.” The butler smiled genially. 

“Well enough,” the boy grumbled. Leaning over, he reached across the bedside table and snatched up his eye patch. With long practice he slipped it into place over his cursed eye, hiding the white lines of power that scarred brilliant blue. 

“Nightmares again, young Master?” Sebastian’s eyes narrowed as he heard the telltale weariness in the young lord’s voice. The butler stalked closer, his crimson eyes filled with an odd light that belied the human mask of mild concern that had settled across his face. When he reached the bed he knelt, reaching out to slide a gloved hand beneath Ciel’s chin. “Will you tell me what you dreamed?”

Ciel allowed the demon’s touch, having decided long ago that it was better to allow the creature its liberties rather than deny them, and thus reveal the discomfort they bestowed. He tilted his head back as his uncovered eye narrowed. “My nightmares are my own, Sebastian.” A bitter smile tilted the corners of his mouth. “You have no right to them…yet.” 

Sebastian echoed the smile, although his contained only quiet amusement rather than bitter resignation. Seeing it Ciel wondered what it was like to live unfettered by the chains of mortality, and wondered if it was that difference that made Sebastian’s smile so much darker, and infinitely lighter. 

The butler bowed his head before his master’s quiet censure. “Of course. But I am here if you wish to share.” The butler regained his feet and glided towards the tea cart he had brought into the room before waking the young lord. “I have brought your breakfast, young Master.” He wheeled the cart closer and Ciel was able to see the covered dish and the tea pot, steam escaping the small spout. 

Ciel waited as the butler set out the tea cup and small plate for his use. A gloved hand lifted the heavy tea pot with ease and the room was filled with the sound of pouring liquid. He took the proffered cup and without looking took a small sip. Ciel’s response was instantaneous and his eye widened before he spat the offending liquid over the pristine white sheets. Staring down into the cup, Ciel scowled. “Sebastian, what is this?”

Sebastian didn’t smile out right, but his eyes did shine with an unholy light. “That would be rose tea, young Master.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I wrote for a friend of mine after we had tea together one night. She ordered the rose tea and I was shocked to see that they put actual rose buds in it. I mean really? Don't they have powder or something? Actual rose buds? I was so surprised that I nearly gagged when a petal landed on my tongue. 
> 
> And hence this story was born.....


End file.
